


Infected

by Tarlonniel



Category: Baldur's Gate, baldur's gate 3
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, High Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27034228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlonniel/pseuds/Tarlonniel
Summary: One day everything's normal, the next day you wake up on a nautiloid with a parasite in your head. Life's funny that way.(Obviously a work in progress since the game isn't even finished yet. Will it ever be completed? Roll a d8. 1-4 "Yes", 5-8 "No".)
Relationships: OC/Astarion, OC/Gale
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	1. Taken

"Sister Fae! Sister Fae!"

The drow stirred lazily, wondering why Magenta was in her room, and what she wanted at such an unholy hour.

"Sister Fae, please wake up! Please!"

There was a low rumbling and the ground shook. _Maybe it's important_ , the drow thought. She forced her eyes open.

This was _not_ her room.

At first she couldn't make out where she was at all. It was just a confused blur of red and black, with a blue-skinned, twisty-horned tiefling in the middle of it, tugging gently at her arm.

"Can you move? Are you hurt? I had to break the - the door-thing. I couldn't figure out how to open it. I'm sorry!"

Fae tried to focus on her immediate surroundings. Some kind of... small closet? With a shattered glass front? She moved her arms and legs experimentally, then began climbing out with the tiefling's help. "I'm all right, I think. Where are we?"

"I don't know. Somewhere terrible. I remember a lot of people running through the streets, screaming, and a black thing covering the sun, and then... bad dreams." She shuddered. "I woke up in one of those things, but it was all smashed, so I climbed out. And then I saw you."

The drow looked around, trying to make sense of the room. It looked like it was constructed out of glistening membranes and snaking tentacles. She saw that she'd been in some sort of pod, and that others lined the walls, all empty. There was smoke in the air, and an underlying scent of blood.

"Dreams?" she said. "I do remember... no, not now. We'd better find out what's going on here. Hold on to that," she added, pointing to the chunk of tendril which Magenta was wielding like a club, and the tiefling nodded, the bright, purplish-red rings in her black eyes widening.

Together they investigated the room, poking at anything that looked like an exit, until they touched the right spot and the membrane spiraled open before them. Fae hissed under her breath.

"What? What is it?"

"I may know where we are. I've seen a door like this before. Be ready to fight."

They made their way along a membranous corridor as quietly and carefully as they could. Up ahead, light spilled in through a ragged gash in one wall. Fae crept up to peer through and gasped. "I don't - look!"

Below them, _far_ below, was a dark, savage landscape rushing by at incredible speed. Black clouds boiled in a blood-red sky above them, lit from beneath by strange fires.

"We're flying?" said Magenta. "We're _flying_!"

"I was sure we were in the Underdark. This looks like... like..." A pack of small red imps darted by the opening, in too much of a hurry to notice them. "Seldarine aid us. We're in the Hells."

"Oh no. Oh no no no." Magenta backed away. "I can't be here. I'd rather be dead. We have to get away."

 _Death may look pretty good before this is over_ , Fae thought grimly, but she forced herself to sound upbeat. "We'll find a way, don't worry. Let's keep moving."

The smell of smoke grew stronger. Soon they were confronted by a wall of flame which blocked the main corridor, so they struck off into a side passage leading outboard. Eventually it brought them to a gallery running along the outside of the airship's hull. The infernal landscape stretched in desolate crags to the horizon and the wind was bitter and cold as they pushed forward against it. Far-off cries drifted to their ears, sounds of battle and confusion, but nothing to tell them who was fighting whom.

They soon came to another gash in the hull; ducking inside, they found a room full of pods, but it was starting to go up in flames. Quickly they checked the ones within reach. Magenta found the only pod which had an occupant - a high elf, as handsome as all high elves are, with white hair that shone even in the subdued light from outside. His eyes were open and they focused warily on her as she approached.

"Hold on! I'll get you out!" she said, raising her weapon. His eyes widened and he waved his hands frantically.

"No!" he said, his voice muffled by the pod. "No, don't!"

"Don't?" she said, puzzled.

"Don't!"

"Oh. Well, um... I'm sorry, I don't know how else to do it. Don't you want out?"

He nodded, then shook his head, then paused, and they looked at each other through the clear pane in confusion. She frowned, glancing at the approaching flames. "We need to go. Are you _sure_ you want to stay?"

The elf looked fearfully between her and the bright opening behind her. "I - fine! But do be careful!"

He turned his face away as best he could and she raised the bludgeon. A few sharp blows and it was done. He clambered over the ragged edge, looking around dazedly, brushing bits of door from his expensive clothing. "It worked. I - I'm not - oh gods!" He jumped back as he noticed her dark-skinned, amethyst-eyed companion. "Drow," he groaned. "This is not my lucky day."

The drow laughed. "Luckier than you think. I serve Ilmater, not Lolth. Now let's get out of here."

He gasped as they returned to the gallery and he saw the landscape spread out below. "This _is_ a day of wonders. Where are we?"

"Unfortunately for us, we're aboard a mind flayer vessel, and it's flying through one of the Hells - Avernus, I suspect. And it seems to be under attack."

"Lovely."

They came to a wide set of steps leading toward what looked like the prow. They had just started up these steps when Fae came to an abrupt halt. Almost before they could blink, a figure was confronting them - a yellow-skinned, brown-spotted, slender woman, with vaguely elvish features but severely lacking in the nose department.

"Who are you?" she hissed. "Thralls? Speak!"

"We're not thralls," Fae said while the others gaped. "We're prisoners who have escaped. Are your people attacking this ship, githyanki?"

"Yes. I have seen dragon riders." She paused, surveying them. "It is imperative that I reach the bridge of this vessel and return it to the Material Plane. There are imps ahead. Too many. You will help me defeat them." Without waiting for an answer she strode off, and they followed.

"I, ah, don't actually have a weapon on me," said the high elf. "Short notice - you understand. I'll just... watch." The githyanki ignored him.

At the top of the stairs they found a small flock of imps busy tormenting an intellect devourer. The githyanki had a crude weapon much like Magenta's, and together, aided by Fae's spells, they dealt with the group fairly quickly. The githyanki did not stop to celebrate; she stormed onward, and the others continued to follow. The wind picked up as they rounded the prow, but they struggled on down another gallery and inboard through a door, passing dead and dying thralls. Mercifully, the dying ones seemed to be completely unaware of where they were and of the destruction happening around them.

Moving quickly through rooms and down corridors, they met a robed human wandering in the same direction. The githyanki passed him without a second glance, not even when he called out, "Wait! Just a moment, please!" But Fae turned back and looked intently into his brown eyes, then took him lightly by the elbow, ignoring the uneasy glance he gave her.

"You're not a thrall?" she said. "Come with us. I'll explain as we go."

So he was swept up into their little parade. Fae gave him a quick sketch of the situation - not much about it surprised him; evidently he'd learned or guessed a great deal already - and he was stroking his dark, neatly trimmed beard, absorbing the information, when the githyanki finally came to a halt in a small chamber.

"We are near the bridge. Our first priority is to reach the helm. Whoever gets there first, await my instructions." 

With that she led them into a long, spacious room, light streaming in through broken windows overhead. A battle was raging between a devil, a horde of imps, several intellect devourers and a pair of mind flayers. The githyanki pointed out the helm at the far end of the room - it was little more than a mass of tentacles - and they started for it, avoiding the combatants as best they could. Some of the imps pestered them, but the high elf proved remarkably quick and agile and, avoiding all obstacles, reached the console, where he began following the githyanki's shouted instructions.

As the last of the mind flayers choked the life from the last of the infernals, they got a planar gate open and the ship sailed through. But almost immediately afterward it shuddered, and explosions sounded from somewhere aft. The githyanki crushed the skull of the remaining mindflayer. "We are going to crash," she said, and indeed the deck was beginning to tilt unpleasantly.

"Are there, well, life rafts of any kind?" Fae asked.

"No, fool! Where are the riders?" The githyanki looked to the sky impatiently. Fae turned to the others.

"Do either of you have teleportation magic?" she asked, looking at the human and the high elf. The elf shook his head. The human hesitated.

"I _did_ have such magic," said the human, "but something very peculiar has happened, and I seem to be... limited... at the moment."

She looked at the ground slowly approaching, and back at him. " _Feather fall_ , then?"

"I was going to suggest that option. However, due to the aforesaid limitations, there is a problem. It pains me, but I don't think I can manage more than four."

There was a brief silence before Fae waved her hands impatiently. "Go! Go, all of you, go quickly. You need to be clear of this ship before it hits the ground, or the debris kicked up might kill you. Unless you'd prefer to keep waiting for a dragon rider?" She raised an eyebrow at the githyanki.

"No. This will do. Come, mage." She stalked off, followed by the high elf. Only the human and Magenta lingered behind.

"Sister Fae, you can't - "

"I can. Go."

"But - "

Fae looked at the human. "Go, and take her with you. Please."

He bowed his head graciously. "I'll see that she's safe. May your god protect you." Taking a firm grip of the tiefling's arm, he led her away, stunned and disbelieving.

The deck was tilting quite dangerously now. Debris and corpses were sliding slowly across its surface toward the tip of the bridge structure. Fae kicked at one of the mind flayers as it went by, then found a corner where she could brace herself, and knelt to pray. Not for herself - she had no fear of death - but for Magenta, and for any of the others who might have had "bad dreams" during their imprisonment. Because if those dreams were anything like the ones _she'd_ had, their fate was going to be far worse than her own.


	2. Connections

A lone half elf sat on a lightly wooded ridge overlooking the smoking wreckage of a nautiloid, her head in her hands. It hurt. _Everything_ hurt. Her head, her heart, the various parts of her body that had smashed into tree limbs as she approached the ground - they all ran together into a lump of throbbing torment. Somehow she'd forgotten all the spells which Mielikki had once granted her. She couldn't heal herself, she couldn't speak to the wildlife nearby, she couldn't summon a furry little creature to keep her company. She longed for the feel of a bow in her hand, but even that was denied her.

With an effort, she tried to focus. Food. Water. Shelter. The basics, the priorities. Wait for the stars to come out and hope they were familiar. But her mind kept wandering - what about the others? She'd lost track of them as they fell. Should she look for them? Would they want her to? And the more she thought about it, the more her head pounded; worse, she began to hear things. _See_ things.

She pushed it all away again. Food. Water. Shelter. A bow. Or at least a knife. Surely there was _one_ knife somewhere in this huge wrecked airship, along with more unpleasant things she didn't want to think about. She staggered to her feet and started along the ridge top, looking for an easy way down.

She found a promising-looking gulch carved into the ridge by a small stream. She drank a little, then slipped down the slope to the wreck. She moved quietly, watching, listening. There was probably nothing left alive, but she couldn't be sure, and scavengers would be showing up soon. After a long hour of searching and poking at shiny objects in the rubble, she found a dagger. Quickly she stuck it in her belt and made her way back to the gulch. As she scrambled up the bank, she made plans. Follow the stream toward its source. Collect anything that might be useful along the way. They hadn't taken her little pouch with flint and steel, so a fire should -

"Pardon me."

She nearly fell back down the slope in surprise. _Good job, now you're just letting people sneak up on you_ , she thought as she steadied herself and looked toward the voice. She nearly fell down the slope again. "You!"

"Me?" said the high elf, startled in his turn.

"You're alive! I thought you would be, but I wasn't sure - well - never mind." She finished climbing the bank. He moved back a little, confused and suspicious.

"I'm sorry. Have we met?"

"Yes, of course we - oh. Right." She looked down at herself, then back at him. "It's me. The, um, the tiefling. From the ship."

He surveyed her critically. "I see. Or rather, I don't. Was _that_ an illusion, or is _this_ one?"

" _This_ is the illusion." She braced herself for a look of disappointment.

"Oh? Good. I liked you better the other way."

Something fluttered inside her, but something else grew wary. "I - thank you. It's easier to get along with strangers if I look more... normal. Safer, too. I got a ring made for it, see?" She held up one hand. "Sister Fae has one - had one - she..." Magenta blinked and cleared her throat. "Anyway, I was going to find a place to make camp. Want to join me?"

"Camp?" He said the word as if he'd never heard it before.

"Yes. A safe place with a fire, some food if I can find it, some leaves to sleep on - "

" _Leaves?_ "

She blinked at him. "Are you... allergic?"

"I don't know. I've never rested on anything except a bed. In a house. In a city."

She looked around. "I, um, don't have any of those things with me. Sorry."

"I suppose a few leaves and a little dirt won't kill me. It'll be rustic. Cozy." He sighed in resignation. "Lead on."

They began walking upstream. She kept scanning the banks for anything either dangerous or useful, while he simply enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air. "So, what's your story?" he said.

"Story?"

"Yes. Who are you? Where do you come from? A name would do to begin with."

"Oh, right, of course. I'm Magenta."

He looked her up and down. "If you say so. My name is Astarion. Pleased to meet you - again. And where do you call home?"

"Baldur's Gate, I suppose, though I spend most of my time moving up and down the coast."

"Doing what?"

"Lots of things. Carrying messages, hunting, protecting caravans, guiding travelers. I get a lot of work from clerics; I sort of grew up in a temple of Ilmater, so they know me."

"Ah ha! And how did you come to this temple?"

"They took me in when I was a kid."

"And?"

"And?" she repeated, confused again.

"Why did they need to take you in?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go. I was running loose in the streets."

"A wily urchin, getting into and out of all sorts of trouble, finally finds refuge in Ilmater. Touching." He placed his hand over his heart with mock solemnity. "But you must have some fascinating tales from your years in the gutter."

"Not really. I don't remember much before the temple. I was pretty young."

"Oh." Now he _did_ look disappointed.

"Yeah, I'm really not very interesting, in spite of the - you know." She gestured toward her invisible horns and tail. "What about you? What's your story?"

"Me? I'm a magistrate in Baldur's Gate. Equally dull, I assure you." He coughed and changed the subject.

They were gradually gaining altitude as they walked. Whenever they came to a good vantage point, Magenta stopped to take a look around. No familiar landmarks jumped out at her, but it _felt_ like the Sword Coast. She was studying the contours of the distant hills when movement among the trees below caught her eye. She crouched immediately and Astarion followed her lead without being told. Peering cautiously down the slope, she studied the moving figure. It didn't look like an animal. It was too tall for a goblin, too short for a gnoll. It looked almost like a human. It _was_ a human. It was -

She jumped up and waved her arms. "Here!" she called out, and he changed course toward her.

"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully as he came up. "And to you as well," he added, catching sight of Astarion. "I see you survived. Good. And found a guide?" He looked curiously at the half elf.

"In a way," said Astarion. "You'll be surprised to learn that this is a very old friend of ours, dating all the way back to last night. It's one of the lovely ladies from the ship - the tiefling, not the yellow one."

"Yes, it's me. Sorry for the confusion, it's the ring. I mean, the glamour. I mean - ugh, nevermind. My name is Magenta. This is Astarion."

"And I am Gale, wizard of Waterdeep, City of Splendors. I'm glad I've caught up to you at last."

"Have you been following our trail?" Magenta was impressed. "I didn't know wizards could do that. But maybe you used magic."

"No, I used... something much less pleasant." He suddenly looked grave. "We need to have a long talk, the three of us. I was hoping to locate the githyanki as well, but perhaps _she'll_ find _us_. Or perhaps it's better if she doesn't."

"From the little I've heard of her kind, the latter might be best," said Astarion. "We're looking for a place to camp. Some pleasant spot with an abundance of charmingly dry leaves. Join us?"

He did, and they continued upstream until Magenta called a halt and walked off to investigate a spot on top of a high bank. "I think this is it," she called from slightly above them. "Let's rest here for the night."

They set about making the place temporarily habitable, working under her direction, though she and Gale did most of the labor while Astarion studied everything with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. Magenta was striking a spark for their fire when she dropped the flint and steel with a cry of frustration. The others stopped to look at her.

"What is it?" said the wizard.

"It's - it's Sister Fae! I keep - I don't know what's going on. I hear her, and - and see things! Why is this happening? Is she haunting me? She wouldn't haunt anyone!"

Astarion slowly backed away, but Gale moved to sit by the tiefling. "Listen to me. Can you describe exactly what you're hearing and seeing?"

"I - it's not - there's just flashes of things, like trees, and the ship burning in the distance, and she's saying things like, 'Where are you? Where do I go?'"

"Mmm." Gale smoothed his beard thoughtfully. "Why don't we try an experiment? I want you to clear your mind and concentrate. Concentrate on your friend. Close your eyes and envision this camp, and place her in it, with us. Then - in your mind - pretend you're drawing a map in the dirt to show her how to reach our camp from the ship. Can you do that?"

She looked at him in wonder, but nodded, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. After a full minute, she opened them again. "I did it. Do you know what's going on?"

"I'm afraid I do. Part of it, at least. I'd prefer to save explanations until she joins us, but we don't know when - or if - that will be, so I'll elaborate once our preparations here are complete."

They returned to their respective duties. Eventually a fire was blazing in a circle of stones and they were sitting down to a light meal of roots and berries, which Astarion took little part in. Gale began his lecture.

"Ceremorphosis. Does the word mean anything to you?" The others shook their heads and he continued. "It's the process by which illithids - mind flayers - reproduce. To be brief, it involves inserting an illithid tadpole into a host's brain cavity. After excruciating pain, a new illithid is born, and the host is no more." He paused to let this sink in.

"And the cure?" said Astarion.

"Powerful clerics have access to healing spells which might help us. As a last resort, they could kill us, destroy our bodies, and cast _True resurrection_. But the cleric would need to be very powerful indeed, and the services of such an individual are extremely expensive, as I can tell you from experience."

"There's nothing else?" Magenta said.

"Not that I know of. And to make matters worse, we only have a few days."

" _Days?_ " Astarion looked around frantically, as if hoping a powerful cleric would pop out of the bushes. "There may not be a city of any size within leagues of here! Magenta, where are we? Can you tell yet?"

She had been rubbing her temples worriedly, but she stopped and looked up at the stars. After a little study, she said, "We're on the Sword Coast, I think. In the more northerly part. If I can get somewhere high up tomorrow, I'll have a better idea."

"Or perhaps we'll meet a local who can inform us," Gale said, resuming his cheerful tone. "But I recommend _not_ being too forthcoming about our condition. Aside from the option I mentioned earlier, the only way to prevent ceremorphosis is to kill the host - and that may be the option others choose to resort to."

Magenta and Astarion suddenly turned and looked off into the forest. "Speaking of locals," Astarion muttered. "A visitor?"

The ranger rose and moved away from the fire, dagger ready, and the high elf did the same on the other side. Soon Gale could hear the rustling too. It approached slowly and seemed to halt at the edge of the lighted area.

"Please don't kill me," said a voice. "I've had a long day."

Magenta squealed with delight and rushed off into the shadows. "Sister Fae! You're alive! Ilmater saved you!"

" _Part_ of that is true, at least," said the voice, and two half elves emerged into the light, each with an arm around the other. "Hello, everyone. Sorry I'm late for supper."

"You can have mine," Astarion offered immediately, and she took him up on it just as quickly. Long overdue introductions followed, though it was hard to get a word in between Magenta's demands for explanations. Fae finished her meal before attempting any reply.

"I think we can get rid of this," she said, speaking a command word to a ring she wore, and the half elf melted away. Magenta quickly followed suit. "Now, as for what happened. I wish I knew. I didn't die, that seems fairly obvious." She held up her dusky hands in the firelight. "Not decaying. Probably not undead. We'll see."

She paused, touching the holy symbol around her neck. "Something saved me. There was... power, but not Ilmater's. I know what his presence feels like. This was not it. But whatever - or whoever - it was, I found myself thrown clear of the ship and safely set down not far from the crash site. Then I tried to find you," looking at Magenta, "which turned into a very strange experience. Did you... draw me a map?"

"Yes! In my mind. He said I should." She nodded at Gale.

"I realized that our passengers were granting us some ability to communicate telepathically," he explained. "Are you aware of our condition?"

"Yes. I'm familiar with it. Any sign of the githyanki?" The others shook their heads. "Pity. She probably knows more about all this than any of us."

"I don't suppose," said Astarion, "that you're a powerful cleric?"

"Hoping I can get these things out of us?" Fae said. "Sadly I'm not that advanced, even under normal circumstances, and right now I find myself - how did you put it, Gale? - peculiarly limited. Maybe we'd better get some rest and see where things stand in the morning. Oh, and we should probably set a watch. Who knows what else made it off that ship."


	3. Adrift

Next morning, after a meager breakfast, they set off for higher ground. Gale and Fae were soon busy comparing notes on ceremorphosis; the wizard had a good bit of scholarly knowledge, while the cleric had heard second hand accounts of infection and treatment. One thing they were soon agreed on: there was a puzzling lack of the usual symptoms among their little group, and a few equally puzzling _unusual_ ones. The telepathy, for instance, and Fae mentioned that sunlight no longer bothered her. Astarion amused himself by questioning Magenta about the natural world he was so unfamiliar with - birds, beasts, plants and the like. His enjoyment mostly came from her ingenuous amazement at his ignorance, but he took a genuine interest in the habits and characteristics of nocturnal creatures.

They rested by another stream after a few hours. Magenta was able to catch some small fish for their lunch, and as these cooked over a fire, Astarion turned his attention to his fellow elf. "Now _you_. _You_ must have a story," he said.

"A few, though I'm no bard. Want to hear about the plague in Neverwinter?"

"No, no - everyone's heard that one, it's insufferably dull - I want to know about _you_. The mysterious drow under that half elven facade."

"I'm not so special. It was the usual thing - a young, foolish female falls in love with a male who secretly worships Eilistraee, and they decide to escape to the surface. It went pretty well for us at first. We settled in a nice, dark place not far from Baldur's Gate, kept to ourselves, had children. And then - " She paused for a moment. "And then some less-than-understanding travelers stumbled across my husband and children one evening. And killed them." 

An uncomfortable silence followed. "You killed the travelers, I assume?" said Astarion eventually.

"Oh yes. I doubt you'd like to hear the details."

"No, that's quite all right. I imagine you were... angry."

"Very. So much so that it almost killed _me_ , too, in the end. Then I tried grief, depression, alcohol - have you ever had a drunk, slightly unhinged drow crying on your shoulder? I'm told it's unnerving, even to a cleric of Ilmater."

Astarion pulled his cloak more tightly about him, as if to make sure his shoulders were well-protected. "I can see how that might be uncomfortable. But you recovered?"

"Yes," she said, giving him an amused look. "You're safe from me. That was almost a century ago."

"Good. Well, the disguise seems much reasonable now."

"It's very convenient. Sometimes it's wise to keep your true nature hidden, in order to avoid such... misunderstandings."

"Yes. Quite." Astarion and Gale both looked uncomfortable, and the latter quickly stepped in to change the subject.

Continuing on after lunch, they soon reached the top of a rocky outcropping where Magenta expected to get a good view of the valley beneath them and the hills beyond. All were hoping for a glimpse of a city on the horizon - perhaps Baldur's Gate itself - but they were disappointed. No obvious signs of habitation appeared, though Magenta's experienced eye picked out some ruins a good distance to the east. In the middle distance was the wreck of the airship, and beyond it, westward, was a glint of what the ranger assured them was the sea.

After some internal debate, Magenta was ready to issue her verdict. "I think we're somewhere between Baldur's Gate and the Reaching Woods. The coast road is probably on the other side of that long ridge just beyond the wreck. But - if I remember right - there's a druid grove near here, and some druids are very good healers. Maybe they can help us."

"How many days from the city would you estimate we are?" asked Gale.

"On foot? With no supplies? At least a week. More if we... don't stay healthy."

"And this grove? How quickly could we reach it?"

She studied the valley, looking for the best route. "Not today. Tomorrow, as long as it's where I _think_ it is. I've only been there once, and groves are hard to find if you don't know exactly where to look."

After some discussion they decided that the grove was their best bet; at the very least they could buy supplies, since the mind flayers, fortunately, had been more interested in their bodies than their coin purses. Magenta led them north and west, aiming for a river she'd spotted winding among the trees. Dusk was falling when they reached it and set about making camp. Magenta promised fish for breakfast, but supper was once again a dismal affair, and Astarion stared grumpily at the pile of leaves he'd have to tolerate another night. When he looked away, he found Fae standing close by, watching him.

"Yes? What do you want?" he snapped.

She gave him a wry grin. "I'm used to that sort of reaction _after_ I ask, but not _before_. I suppose I'll try anyway. Would you like to Commune with me before we rest?"

He was entirely taken aback. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times. "I didn't think drow Communed," he managed at last. "Do they? That is, of course they do, if you're asking, but I - I'm not - "

She held up a hand. "Don't worry about excuses. I'm turned down more often than accepted, but I always ask at least once." She turned and walked back to the fire, where Gale was watching the flames as they sputtered against the darkness.

"Pardon me if that was meant to be a private conversation," he said as she sat down opposite him, "but I've sometimes wondered myself if elven Communion took place among the drow. It's not been an area of much study, unsurprisingly."

"Many who flee to the surface pick up the habit. Normal drow run shrieking from such honest intimacy."

"Understandable. And - pardon me again if this is too personal - it seems from your comments that many non-drow are equally reluctant to Commune with their dark kindred."

She smiled. "I don't blame them. There are some things in here - " she tapped her head, " - that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Surface elves view Communion with drow as something like dancing in a minefield. And for a drow, too, it can be... uncomfortable. The minds of surfacers are very different from ours, often in unexpected ways."

"But you still seek out such contact?"

"Yes. Communion is a wonderful thing. I'm not sure I could describe, to a human, just _how_ wonderful."

He looked back at the fire wistfully. "I may understand better than you think."

"What do you mean?" But he didn't answer her, and she didn't press him.

After supper they settled down to rest, all except Magenta, who had first watch. Gale and Fae sailed off to dreamland quickly, but Astarion kept fussing with his pile of leaves, arranging and rearranging them like a deranged artist. He was standing and contemplating his handiwork for the third time when he became aware that Magenta was watching him intently, and had been for some time. He looked at her and frowned.

"You think this is amusing?" he said as she turned her head away quickly.

"No! I thought you - you were - "

"What? Finicky? Spoiled? Unappreciative of nature's bounty?"

"Handsome."

That shut him up for the second time in one night.

"I'm sorry, I just... wanted to look at you. I shouldn't have. It was rude."

"On the contrary, forgive _me_ , my dear, for resenting such an _entirely_ natural impulse." He brushed a hand through his flowing hair. "Look all you like. Sincere appreciation is never unwelcome." And he turned back to his arrangements with a smirk.


	4. Rescue

Over their fish breakfast the following day, Gale and Fae examined the others and themselves for any signs of transformation. There were none. This formed the main subject of conversation for some time, but no new explanations were forthcoming. Perhaps the mind flayers had been trying out a new process, but in that case there was no way of knowing how much time was left, or what to expect in their remaining days. There was nothing to do but press on to the grove and hope for healing.

Magenta led them slowly northward up the west bank of the river, looking for any sign of activity that might indicate druids were nearby. Not long after they'd started she noticed something in the brush and went to investigate. She came back slightly pale. "Look at this. I really hope I'm wrong, but I don't think I am."

They followed her to a dead boar lying partially hidden under a bush. It was intact, as if it had died from disease, and its skin was almost completely white. Magenta pointed silently to its neck. There were two small, clean puncture marks over the artery.

"Vampire," said Fae.

"I agree," said Gale. "Strange to find one here, so near a druid grove. We should be doubly vigilant after dark from now on."

"I hate to waste the meat," Magenta said, "but cleaning and dressing him would take a long time, and if we're near the druids, we should have plenty to eat soon. I guess we'll just leave him." She leaned down to pat the cold head. "Poor thing. I hope it was quick."

They moved on, not without an occasional uneasy glance over their shoulders. They came to a dirt path which crossed the river at a ford and continued into the forest on either side. Magenta turned west, and as they walked the trees began to thin out, until they were clearly traveling along the edge of the wood, trees on their left and a high bank on their right. Soon voices could be heard from up ahead and they hurried forward until they came to a gap in the bank. Two tieflings were standing there, and beyond them, hanging in a net trap, was the githyanki.

She noticed them immediately and they all heard her voice in their minds. "Free me! Now!"

The tieflings turned, following her gaze. "More travelers?" said one. "Are you looking for the grove?"

"Yes, we are," Fae replied, stepping forward with a glance at the prisoner. "We hoped to get supplies and advice from the druids."

"Supplies, maybe," he said, "but advice? Not likely. They're threatening to kick us all out and seal off the place."

"Why?"

"Something about outsiders and corruption." He looked at his companion, who rolled her eyes.

"As if we _want_ to be stuck here," she said. "You're elves, or mostly elves, right? Maybe they'll like you better." She turned back to her friend. "Let's leave the monster and _go_. It's dangerous. The goblins will deal with it."

"I think we should just kill it. Safer that way."

"She _may_ be dangerous, and she may not," Fae put in. "Let us deal with her - we have some experience. If you could direct us to the grove before you go, we'd appreciate it."

"Yes, let them handle it," said the woman. "The grove isn't far from here; just follow the road and you'll see the gate. Can't miss it. Now come _on_."

With that the tieflings left. Once they were out of earshot the githyanki hissed, "Get me down! Quickly!"

"I guess that's the gith version of 'please'," said Fae. "Magenta, would you find the rope and cut it?"

She did, and the net came crashing to the ground, githyanki and all. She glared suspiciously at the half elves as they untangled her, but once Fae explained who they were, the glares abated. Slightly.

"Are you hurt?" said Fae.

"No," the githyanki lied through clenched teeth. "There is no time to waste. I must find a _crèche_ and be cleansed."

" _Crèche_? Do you mean a healer?"

"No, fool. A _crèche_ is an outpost of my people."

"Is there one nearby?"

The githyanki's resolve seemed to falter. "I... do not know."

"I've been up and down this coast and never seen one of your kind before," Magenta put in.

"We _keep_ to _ourselves._ " But she looked even more uncertain.

"We were headed to the druid grove, hoping to find a healer and supplies. You could join us," Fae offered.

"That is not the protocol! My mandate is clear."

"Okay. Good luck finding one of these _crèche_ things. Watch out for nets." Fae turned and walked off, the rest following. They hadn't gotten far before the githyanki hurried after them.

"I can at least ask those in this grove for useful information."

"True enough. But please keep in mind that threats might make them less willing to talk, and that there'll be many more of them than you. Also, possibly, more nets." Fae made a round of introductions, and the githyanki gave her name as Lae'zel.

They started westward and soon heard more noises up ahead, but these were worrying - shouts and battle cries. Fae called the group to a halt. "I think we'd better get an idea of what's going on before we stick ourselves in the middle of it. Magenta?"

The ranger nodded and vanished into the trees. The sounds grew louder, though not, apparently, any closer.

"I _still_ don't have a weapon," Astarion muttered, "and neither do you," he added, looking at Lae'zel. "If there's a fight coming, I don't see how we can be of much use."

"Coward. I will kill with my bare hands and take the weapons of my enemy."

"A good plan. Except for the first part, _that_ sounds a little tricky."

Magenta appeared again, out of breath and agitated. "Goblins and gnolls and wargs. They're attacking the grove. They're at the gate. _Lots_ of them. A few people outside, fighting them back. We need to hurry or they'll be dead."

"Better them than us," said Astarion, but the others were already hurrying ahead. He followed reluctantly. Magenta beckoned them up the bank on one side, and as they topped it, they saw a crowd of evil-looking creatures surrounding a small group of defenders arranged in a close formation, backed up against a heavy wooden portcullis. Two archers stood on earthen ramparts above, but they seemed to be having little effect on the battle below.

Lae'zel quickly noticed a lone goblin scrambling around beneath them, apparently trying to get to high ground itself to attack the archers. With a low growl she launched herself at it. A surprised squeak was about all it managed before its life was over. Lae'zel plucked a crooked longsword off its body, flourished it, nodded to herself and charged forward. The battle was joined.

Magenta scrambled down the bank to grab the goblin's crude bow and quiver, then up again, and joined the casters in raining death from above. Astarion hung back at first, but as the crowd of enemies thinned he finally darted down to grab a pair of daggers, and quickly went to work with more skill than the rest of them had expected.

The besieging mob was completely taken by surprise. Seeming to lack any real discipline, coordination or sense of strategy, they were soon overwhelmed, in spite of their numbers. As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Fae ran over to join the original defenders, picking up a broken shield on the way for some protection, and began healing those who seemed on the verge of collapse.

At last the enemy scattered, those left of them. A weary human who seemed to be the leader of the group outside the gate turned toward it. " _Now_ will you let us in, you devils?"

There was a raised voice from inside and the gate slowly lifted. The human stormed in, followed by his companions and the new arrivals, and the gate lowered again behind them. He made straight for a red-skinned, fiery-eyed tiefling who was standing just inside. "I told you to _raise_ the _gate_!"

"I tried! They were too close!"

"You almost got us all killed!"

" _You_ almost got _us_ killed! There are children here! You led them right to us! Where's Halsin?"

"Dead. Captured. I don't know and I don't care. No one told us there was a horde of _cultists_ squatting in the ruins. This isn't the job we signed up for, and I'm not about to put up with a bunch of cowardly, incompetent hellspawn making things worse!"

The tiefling's eyes glowed more brightly and it was clear the two men were about to come to blows. Gale and Fae both stepped forward quickly.

"Before you mutilate each other," she said, "would you mind answering a few questions?" The men glanced at her, then back at each other.

"I can see you're eager to finish what the goblins started," Gale added. "Just a little information and we'll be out of your way."

The human muttered something and stalked off, followed by his companions. The tiefling turned to the newcomers with a sigh.

"I apologize. I shouldn't have lost my head. We're all on edge. My name is Zevlor, and we owe you five a debt of gratitude. Apparently the druids didn't even notice - or care about - what was happening at their gate."

Fae made introductions, and as she did, a strange group started gathering around them. Tieflings. More tieflings than any of them had seen in one place before, all staring at them curiously - especially at Lae'zel, who glowered in return.

"So _many_ ," Magenta said, gazing around in wonder.

"They don't mean you any harm. I know that your kind often find us unnerving, even frightening, but we're merely refugees looking for a place to call home."

Fae gave Magenta an amused glance. "Our kind. Yes. Hmm." She raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question and Magenta fiddled with her ring.

"I suppose maybe they could know," said the ranger. "They seem, uh, friendly, and I guess they trust us. Sort of. At least they'll be understanding." She spoke the command word and her disguise faded away, leading to murmurs of surprise from the crowd. "Yeah. I've had some of the problems you were talking about. The ring helps with first impressions."

"You're welcome among us, sister. Are there any more surprises hidden among your group? Is one of you a beholder, perhaps, or an ancient red dragon?" Zevlor said, smiling.

Fae coughed. "Ah. Well. There is _one_ more surprise, at least. I'm not sure how much you'll like it." And she dropped her own disguise. This time there were gasps from the crowd, and some of them actually moved back.

"Fascinating," said Zevlor. "The drow are known in Avernus, but I never expected to meet one. Especially not to be _saved_ by one."

"Toril is full of surprises. Why don't we all go somewhere and talk? Preferably somewhere with food and drink, and after that if you could point us to a place to bathe, and to get a clean, comfortable night's rest, I think we'd all consider ourselves fully repaid."


	5. Desperation

From a flat, grassy area behind the portcullis Zevlor led them down into a spacious cavern, much of it open to the sun and air. Here the tieflings had made their camp, a mass of carts, cattle, and wooden structures built both for shelter and defense. Over a more sumptuous meal than they'd enjoyed in days, they learned the state of affairs.

The tieflings were outcasts from Elturel seeking refuge in Baldur's Gate. They'd been attacked by gnolls on the road and fled for protection to the druids. This attack had apparently been part of a larger outbreak of unrest in the region, and Halsin, the archdruid, had suspected that the source of the trouble might lie in the ruins of an old temple of Selûne. He'd joined a treasure-hunting expedition headed to the temple, but that expedition had obviously ended in disaster, and in his absence the temporary leader of the druids had taken it upon herself to threaten the refugees with expulsion. After the latest attack, Zevlor was sure she'd be even more determined to see them gone, and without Halsin there was no one to oppose her.

"Most of us have no skill with weapons or knowledge of magic," he said. "Even if we left all of our possessions behind and went on foot, we couldn't outrun a group of raiders, not with children and elders among us. Our situation is desperate."

"Ours isn't looking much better," said Fae. "We were hoping to locate a powerful healer."

"Halsin would have served your purpose well. He is - or was - both powerful and compassionate. If only you'd arrived a few days earlier."

They questioned a druid who came to offer supplies in trade, but he could tell them very little. Kagha had ordered the Rite of Thorns to be performed, not without some opposition, apparently, though it proved futile. The inner grove was off limits, and in a few days the entire area would be closed to outsiders. He could provide them with some basic supplies - tents, bedrolls, packs, trail rations, water skins - but little else.

By this time night was falling and they rather gloomily set up a little area for themselves in an unused part of the cavern complex. Some discussion of what they should do followed over supper. Their best course seemed to be to accompany the refugees on the road to Baldur's Gate. There they might find healers, or, in Lae'zel's case, news of her kin, but no one knew if their luck would hold out so long, and a few of them were uneasy about potentially introducing five newborn mind flayers into a crowd of helpless exiles. In the end they decided to rest on it and look for other options in the morning.

Magenta slept poorly, her dreams full of goblins and mind flayers and shadows from Avernus. It was in the very early hours of the morning that she woke up suddenly and realized she wasn't alone. Someone was at her back, and a hand was brushing the hair from her neck. In one quick movement she rolled away, snatched the dagger by her bedside and turned to face the intruder.

Her eyes easily picked him out in the darkness. It was Astarion, but not Astarion. This was no sneering fop. This was something cunning. Dangerous. _Hungry_.

" _You_ ," she said.

"It's not what you think!"

"I'm such an idiot. Why didn't I see it? Pale skin. Violet eyes - were they blue once?" She kept her dagger leveled at him. "But - but you've been walking around during the day!"

"Yes, I know. You remember freeing me on the ship? That was the first time I'd seen sunlight in two hundred years. Or whatever passes for sunlight in the Hells."

"How many people have you killed, vampire?"

"None! I've never killed anyone. Not for food, at least."

"Then why were you at my throat in the middle of the night?"

"Because I needed a sip. Just a taste." He sighed. "You really don't understand. I can't risk hunting here! Any animals wandering around might be under a druid's protection. Worse, they might _be_ a druid. But after the battle this afternoon, I need to feed. I'm getting weak. I can't think. A drink from you could keep me going another day or so - provided no more fighting is involved."

She lowered the dagger slightly. "Why didn't you just _ask_?"

"At best you would've said 'No'. At worst, you would've driven a stake through my ribs. I couldn't expect you to trust me. But you _can_ trust me, I swear."

She lowered the dagger completely and they stared at each other in the darkness. "Wait here," she said at last. "Just... wait." She grabbed a blanket and threw it around herself - suddenly remembering that she was half naked - and ducked out of the tent. A minute or two later she returned with Fae in tow, who got a quick summary of the situation.

"Huh," said Fae. "Good job. You kicked me out of the number one spot on the 'List of people most likely to be attacked simply for existing'." She folded her arms and looked at Magenta. "I don't see a good solution here, at least not yet, but I do see a very questionable one. You or me?"

"Me," said Magenta promptly. "I trust you to stop things if they go badly. And then to heal me afterwards."

"Right." Fae turned to Astarion, who was beginning to look hopeful. "I'll be honest. _I_ don't trust _you_. I don't know how much of your story is true. I don't know if you'll be able to limit yourself to just 'a taste', whatever that means, even if it really is all you want. In the morning you're going to have a lot of explaining to do, to all of us. For now, she's willing, so go ahead. But I'm going to stay _right here_ , and you _will_ stop when I tell you to, or I'll treat you like clerics are _supposed_ to treat undead. Are we clear?"

"Perfectly. Come here, my dear." He guided Magenta, wide-eyed and nervous, to sit down on her bedroll, and knelt beside her.

"This is a gift," he whispered. "I won't forget it." He put an arm gently around her shoulders, and like an adder he struck.

Slowly she relaxed. There was a little pain at first, but it faded, and nervousness turned to a strange sort of pleasure, and then to numbness. Her eyes began to drift shut, but Fae's voice cut sharply through the descending fog.

" _Stop. Now._ "

Astarion jerked away. "Oh! Of course." He smiled at Magenta as he stood, blood still on his lips, looking more alive than he ever had. Confident. Powerful. She touched her neck - it was a little sore, but that was all.

"Thank you, ladies. I bid you farewell until tomorrow, and I promise to provide those explanations. Some of them, at least." He glided out.

Fae shook her head, bent down and cast a healing spell on her friend. "I guess that's it for now. I hope Lae'zel doesn't kill him."


	6. Reprieve

Lae'zel was surprisingly accepting of Astarion's little blood fetish, though she made it clear she _would_ kill him, and quite painfully, if he tried to taste _her_. Gale was less harsh, but equally firm in his refusal to become a midnight snack. Astarion's promised explanations followed. He was not a "true" vampire, he said, but the spawn of a vampire lord named Cazador, who resided in Baldur's Gate. He described Cazador's power and cruelties in great detail.

"I certainly don't intend to return to him if I can help it. I may be able to walk in sunlight, but that's far from a guarantee that he can no longer control me. Also, it seems I'm still quite sensitive to running water, so let's avoid that if we can, hmm?"

"The question still remains," said Fae, "of how you're going to be fed."

"Yes. That. I can only recommend we _don't_ spend a great deal of time here, so I have an opportunity to find more acceptable prey. And would you object if I disposed of an enemy or two in my own particular way? Dead is dead, after all."

There were no objections, though Fae asked that he not make a habit of it. They were rising to go when Gale called everyone back.

"Since this seems to be the morning for it, I have something to get off my own chest, both figuratively and literally." He stood up and assumed a position behind an imaginary podium. They almost expected him to break out lecture notes. "I'm sure you've all heard of the meddling ways of wizards and how they often lead to trouble. Well, I meddled, and there was trouble indeed. If I fall in battle, there is a resurrection scroll on my person, and you will receive instructions on how to retrieve and employ it. If for any reason you cannot do so, then you must either get my body _far_ away from populated areas, or everyone in the vicinity far away from _it_. Because eventually - just how soon I cannot say - it will explode with enough force to level a city."

They gaped at him.

"I know. On a related note, if you happen across any magical items that you can spare, I would appreciate it if you donated them to me. I can use them to keep my condition under control. In Waterdeep I had access to a regular supply, but of course that's no longer available."

They looked even more alarmed.

"Don't be concerned. If my condition becomes at all precarious, I will remove myself to some safe place. I will not allow anyone else to suffer for my own folly. I know you likely have questions, but I must ask you to forbear. I have given you all the relevant information. Do with it as you will." He walked away and the rest of the party slowly dispersed.

Magenta's priority for the day was trading with anyone who had things they might need. She was especially hoping to turn up better weapons, and as it turned out, one of the refugees, Dammon, was a blacksmith. Though his stock in hand was limited, it looked like it would serve their purposes. The only problem was negotiating payment. She was stammering through an attempt at haggling when words mysteriously began to come to her. Or perhaps _not_ so mysteriously, because she soon realized that the words were being put in her mind by someone else, and that someone was Astarion.

She fought the temptation to look around and, since his suggestions seemed reasonable, used them, not without awkward pauses and occasional doubts if this was really a good idea. She got an excellent deal on some blades, bows and ammunition, plus a shield for Fae and a stave for Gale. "Thanks for the business," said Dammon as they completed their exchange. "I do good work - you'll see. If we ever get to Baldur's Gate, you should look me up. Maybe we could get to know each other better, too," he added with a wink.

Magenta stammered again. _No, thank you, I have a previous engagement_ , said the voice in her mind. "No, thank you," she repeated automatically, "I have a - what? No, I - I mean, um, no. Thanks. Uh, but thanks for the equipment. Looks great." She moved away hastily, her arms full of bright steel and polished wood. Astarion emerged from the shadows nearby with an amused grin.

" _Why_ on _Toril_ did you tell me to say that? It's not true! It didn't even make any sense!"

He plucked a pair of daggers and a bow from her heap. "You didn't _want_ to meet him, did you?"

"Well, no, but - "

"Then it's all settled. Besides, you should know better than to say everything that passes through your head."

She wanted to argue, but she couldn't help laughing, and in the end she let it go.

Meanwhile, Gale had located a fellow wizard. The man wasn't one of the refugees, apparently, just a tiefling passing through on business of his own - to be apprenticed to a wizard in Baldur's Gate, one whom he described as the greatest mage on the Sword Coast. Gale secured the promise of an introduction if he should ever be in the city and was pondering their exchange when Fae walked up to him.

"A colleague in the magical arts?" she said.

"Indeed, though he's young in them as yet."

"I'm sure he'll grow much more meddlesome in the future. Speaking of which, I have something for you. Here." She took something from her pouch and placed it in his outstretched palm. "It's a Ring of Daywalking. Very useful for drow who can't spend all their time skulking around at night. I've no need of it at the moment, and if I'm ever lucky enough to get rid of my 'passenger', and to survive the process, I'll be happy to endure a little sun blindness in exchange."

He closed his hand around the ring with a look of immense relief. "Thank you. Truly. In this situation, and on such short acquaintance, your trust and generosity are humbling."

"Considering who I serve, I wouldn't think it was so surprising. Let me know if you ever talk Lae'zel or Astarion into a donation - _that_ would _really_ be impressive."

He put the gift away with a bright smile. "Your sacrifice is appreciated nevertheless. Tell me, how are you planning to spend the day?"

"I was on my way to prison, as a matter of fact."

"What?"

"Zevlor just told me that one of the goblins who attacked yesterday was found still breathing. They brought her in and locked her up until they could decide what to do with her. I thought I'd pay a visit. Up for it?"

"Certainly. Lead the way."

Behind a roughly built partition they found an even more roughly built cage. They'd heard raised voices as they approached, and coming around the corner they found two tieflings confronting an imprisoned goblin shaman. One of the tieflings was holding a crossbow - not very expertly - pointed in the vague direction of the goblin, but she was shaking so much that her aim varied wildly.

"I don't care," she was saying. "She doesn't deserve to live when my brother is dead. I'll do it myself."

"You don't have the guts," sneered the prisoner. "Go on! Try it!"

With two swift steps Fae had moved between weapon and goblin. The tiefling woman jumped back, nearly hitting the trigger.

"What in the Hells are you doing?"

"Just shoot," said Fae. "I deserve it too. I've killed lots of people. Somewhere, someone's sister will thank you."

"What?" The tiefling lowered her weapon in confusion. "But you - I don't understand. She's a _goblin_."

"And I'm a drow, and you're a bit of a devil. I'm not saying she's likely to convert to Lathander and start singing madrigals, and if Zevlor decides she needs to die, I won't stop you. But for your own sake, walk away."

The tiefling still looked angry and confused, but lowered her weapon and marched off, followed by her companion. Gale looked at Fae with a hint of awe. "I once stopped a barfight in the Yawning Portal by buying a round of drinks. Standing in front of a loaded crossbow? That's a very different thing."

They turned to the prisoner, and as they did a strange sensation flashed through their minds - as if something had probed them and then withdrawn. "I knew it," said the goblin gloatingly. "You're true souls. Come to get me out? The Absolute's looking after old Priestess Gut."

Fae and Gale exchanged a brief glance. "True soul?" said Fae. "Why do you think that?"

"Felt it. We know each other, we do. And why would you be here, drow, 'less Minthara sent you. She's your kin, ain't she?"

"I don't know any Minthara, or this Absolute you speak of. What is it?"

The priestess moved back, suspicious, and Fae pushed words into her mind. _Cretin! Don't you understand? We are being observed!_ The goblin's eyes widened. "This Absolute - what is it?" Fae repeated.

Gut winked knowingly. "She. The Absolute is the blessing in the storm and the storm itself. We're burning Her name across the face of the world. Sorry for my mistake. I thought you was one of us." _Been to the camp?_

"And she has given you power, has she? Protection?" _Not yet. My mission lay elsewhere._

"Oh yes. She looks out for Her own. We true souls are gathering more of the faithful to Her every day, and when Her time comes, we'll lead Her armies, and govern the new world She makes." _Shouldn't be no trouble getting in. A drow who walks in sunlight? That's a sign of the Absolute._

"How long have you served her?" _We are speaking of the camp in the ruins to the east?_

"I've led Her faithful for months now. She chose me and confirmed me at Her high holy place." _Yeah, that's it. The drow Minthara's in charge now. Bring 'em all back here. We'll take this place for the Absolute._

"You're clearly a madwoman. I've no more time to listen to your ravings." She turned on her heel and left the room. Once they were out of earshot, she looked at Gale. "We need to find the others. We have a lot to discuss."

The discussion lasted for hours. It continued while they packed up their camp and moved it a little distance from the grove - risky, but Astarion would be better able to hunt. Magenta and Fae were all for infiltrating the cultists, rescuing Halsin if he'd survived, killing Minthara if they could, and hopefully making the roads safe in the process. Lae'zel was focused on locating a _crèche_ and didn't care one whit about cultists, druids or tieflings, though the revelation that Priestess Gut had apparently been infected and lived for months both intrigued and troubled her. Astarion, for his part, wasn't interested in risking his unlife in a rescue attempt if their condition was actually stable. Gale tried his best to act as mediator, with limited success.

The debate continued during supper, which Astarion found elsewhere, and by bedtime it was more or less settled. Lae'zel knew she was unlikely to find Baldur's Gate on her own, so she was stuck helping either the refugees or the rescuers or both, and at least she might learn more about her strange condition among the cult. Astarion had nowhere to go, really. His master, with unknown levels of power over him, waited in the city, and was probably already searching for him; spending his existence alone, on the run, sleeping in the woods and eating wildlife, wasn't very appealing, and the question remained whether their condition was as stable as Gut's or if she'd had additional aid from her goddess. In the end they were reluctantly agreed and prepared to march for the ruins the following morning.


	7. Temptation

Next morning came and a black cloud had settled over their camp. All were silent and grave, wrapped up in their own thoughts, barely meeting each other's eyes. Lae'zel broke the tension when she stood up suddenly and laid her tent flat with one blow from her fist.

"Dreams!" she hissed. "Tricks of the _ghaik_! You had them, yes? Do not listen! Do not believe! The thing in our head lies, coaxes, pleads to be let in. Resist!" She turned angrily to begin packing for the road. The others followed suit, more slowly.

"An enemy in our own minds," said Gale to Fae, musingly. "There is nothing more dangerous. It can turn our most private thoughts and wishes against us. I don't know what form it took for you, but for me it was... almost irresistible."

"Yes. For me too." Fae touched her holy symbol. "Ilmater guide me, and give me strength when my own is not enough for what must be done."

On the other side of camp, Astarion had recovered his usual flippancy and was speculating out loud to the silent tiefling working beside him. "I've never tasted goblin. I suppose we'll have kill at least one during this little trip of ours, and I _am_ curious. It can't be worse than the rats Cazador used to feed me. I suppose I could also try gnoll, but all that long fur - yech. It gets terribly in the way."

He looked at her. She was keeping her eyes steadily on her work. "Come now, surely _your_ dream wasn't so bad. Didn't you tell me you were terribly dull? What could you have to be ashamed of?" She blushed a deeper shade of blue and remained silent. "Fascinating. Perhaps you're not such an innocent after all."

"What was your dream?" she said.

"Jealous?" He smirked. "I dreamed of my lovely wife back in Baldur's Gate, and my horde of equally lovely concubines."

She flashed a glance at him. "You're normally a better liar."

"You don't think I could attract a horde of concubines?"

"I think your dream wasn't like that at all. I don't think it was very nice."

He watched her with a sudden icy edge to his smile. "You think you know me so well after only a few days?"

She just continued packing, starting on his gear since he'd been completely ignoring it. When she finished and offered his pack to him, he snatched it from her hands. "Cazador. I dreamt of Cazador, and no, it wasn't nice at all. Satisfied?" And he stalked away.

They traveled the full day at a quick pace and made camp a safe distance from the ruins, or so they hoped. They lit no fire, and after a quick strategy session they were preparing to turn in when a light suddenly appeared a short distance away among the trees. It surrounded a handsome human male who strode into their camp with complete unconcern for the weapons and baleful looks directed his way.

"Charming place," he said. "Not exactly what I'd choose, but I suppose your options are limited."

"State your purpose or I will take your tongue for stew," Lae'zel growled.

"Stew? I think I can do better than that." He made a graceful gesture with his hand and both the forest and the darkness melted away. They were standing in an elegantly decorated room with a roaring fire and a banquet table covered in choice dishes. Through an open set of balcony doors they could see a garden, stars shining overhead, and pleasant floral scents wafted in on a night breeze.

"Very good," said Gale, picking up an apple from the table. "You are an artist."

"Thank you. I've found that the proper atmosphere makes all the difference." He bowed to the group. "My name is Raphael, and I've come to help you."

"With what, exactly?" said Fae.

"You've got something on your minds. A burden. An unwanted guest." He smiled, his white teeth gleaming in the firelight. "I could remove it - for a price."

"I have no need of your assistance," Lae'zel spit out. "Return me to the forest."

"You think your people have a cure. But can you find them? And what will you become in the meantime?" He looked at the others. "You seek a healer, but you presume this is an affliction within the ability of a mortal to cure. It is not. There are great powers at work."

"But you can help us?" said Fae. "What are you, exactly?"

He smiled again and shadows formed around him, the shadows of curving horns and great wings, and his eyes glowed red. Magenta squeaked, moving behind Fae.

"No need to fear me, little sister," said Raphael, and the shadows faded. "Continue your search, if you must. Fight what grows inside you, if you can. When all that is left to you is despair, call on me, and I will come." With a wave of his hand he vanished and they were in the forest again, Gale still holding the apple.

"A cambion is courting us," he said, taking a bite. "Interesting."

"No deals," said Magenta. "No deals, ever, with _them_."

"For once I agree. My people will free us from this parasite. All else is a distraction."

Astarion shrugged. "Raphael's slave, Cazador's slave - I suppose being one is very much like being the other. Both are preferable to being a mind flayer."

"The real question here," said Gale, "is what he wants."

"Aren't they usually after souls?" said Fae.

"Usually, but I can't imagine our souls being worth so much effort. No, there's something else, and I imagine it's connected to our 'passengers'. There's something very unusual about them, perhaps more unusual than we've begun to suspect."

"No deals," said Magenta again."You never win in a deal with a devil."

"That may be true, but this particular devil seems to be half human, and humans are fallible, as I can well attest."

"Or so he wants you to think," said Astarion. "I've seen Cazador toy with his victims this way, holding out hope and snatching it away. People like him don't play games unless they're sure they'll win."

"There's nothing we can do about it right now," said Fae. "We need to get some rest. We've got a cult to infiltrate in the morning."


	8. Subterfuge

"This feels like the opening of a bad joke," Astarion muttered. "A vampire, a tiefling, a drow, a githyanki and a human walk into a goblin camp."

"I hope we're the ones laughing at the end of it," said Fae.

The ruins lay before them, a mass of crumbling stone walls reinforced with wooden planks across the gaps. An unpleasant odor drifted on the wind. Trampled dirt marked the path leading to the entrance, where a series of staggered barricades had been set up and worgs and goblins were lounging about. They watched the little group approach with moderate interest until, it seemed, they got a good look at the one in front, and suddenly started scrambling to their feet and to their posts.

"Okay," said Fae, "time to do my best matron mother impression." Her easy stride became imperious. She thrust her shoulders back, her head high, and an expression of cold, calculating cruelty spread over her face. She was drow.

She marched toward the entrance, looking for anyone who might be in charge. One goblin hailed her nervously. "Your worshipfulness, we didn't know any more of you was coming."

"It was not your place to know," she snapped. "I seek Minthara. Where is she?"

"In the temple, you most high drowedness, that way." He pointed north. "Can't miss it. She's seein' how we can get back at them druids."

"I know of the attack on this place, and that you were too incompetent to keep the filth from escaping. Did you at least take their leader, Halsin?"

"I dunno, your horribleness. I didn't hear of no prisoners. They'd be in the temple, same as Minthara."

"Then I am finished here." She swept on, the others trying to look appropriately fierce and frightening as they followed her. Lae'zel, Astarion and even Gale managed rather well, Magenta not so much, but her infernal heritage worked in her favor for once.

The grounds were full of evil-looking creatures eating, drinking, fighting, sleeping, and otherwise disporting themselves. Fae moved straight through them, deviating neither right nor left, expecting _them_ to get out of _her_ way, which they did. The temple seemed to be structurally intact, though the cult had put a lot of effort into redecorating. The symbol of the bloody hand was everywhere.

An ogre standing guard at the huge wooden doors only nodded respectfully, and a little drunkenly, as they passed him. Inside was a dimly lit antechamber strewn with bones and other debris. It was even more foul smelling than the camp outside. A goblin on watch before an inner door at the other end of the room hailed them.

"Oi! Who're you now? We're doin' the Absolute's work in here."

"You would challenge a drow, and a true soul?" Fae glared down upon her. "You will answer my questions and not speak to me again unless I address you. Where is Minthara?"

"Oh, uh, 'scuse me, your worship. Didn't realize you was one of those Moonrise types at first. She's inside, back in her own quarters, I think."

"Were any prisoners taken after the attack on this camp some days ago?"

"No, they all got away, curse 'em. We got one of their pets, though. Locked it up in the beast pens."

"Describe the location of my sister's quarters and of these pens."

Directions obtained, Fae left the guard to her duties and continued inside, where fires and totems filled the inner hall, along with the smell of burnt flesh. She headed for the pens first, ignoring the occasional goblin who stared as she passed. Their directions led them to a room full of prison cells which had been converted into worg stables. A goblin scurried up as they entered, introducing himself as the beast master.

"I am told that an animal was captured during the raid some days ago. I wish to see it."

"Yes, your worship. It's right down there, where the kids are having a bit of fun. Killed three of us all by itself, it did."

Fae nodded peremptorily and walked down the row of cells until she came to a group of very small goblins throwing rocks through a grating at a very large bear. A very large, very grumpy bear who was eyeing the goblins malevolently.

"Hey! Stop that!" said Magenta to a goblin who was winding up for a pitch.

"What? Why?" said the youngster, peering up at her.

"Because - uh - " She looked at Fae.

"Because I am here now, brat, and I do not wish your company," said Fae. "Begone before I feed you to the beast!" The group scampered off.

"Poor thing," said Magenta quietly when they were gone. "I'm sorry, I can't talk to it, or maybe it could tell us about Halsin. It was probably his companion." She paused, looking at the bear more closely. "Or is it - " She stepped closer to the bars and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Are _you_ Halsin?"

The bear shuffled uneasily in its confined space. "I don't think he trusts us," said Magenta. "What can we do?"

"Let me try something," said Gale. He muttered a spell and pointed one finger at the bear. There was silence for about half a minute, and then Gale dropped his arm with a smile of triumph. "It _is_ Halsin. I told him we've come from the grove to find him and kill Minthara. He told me that I keep strange company, meaning you, I expect," looking at Fae, "but that he approved of our goals and would help us if he could."

"Excellent," said Fae. "And now - hmmm. Play along, archdruid, we couldn't exactly plan this part." She raised her voice. "Beast master!"

"Yes, your worship," he said, scurrying up to them.

"What is this beast called?"

"Uh, that's called a bear."

"They are strong, these bay-ars?"

"Very strong."

"Can I feed it the bodies of my enemies?"

"Think so. They'll eat most anything."

"It sounds useful. I will take it with me. Open the door."

"Uh - but - "

"Open it! The beast is cowed. Drow know the proper ways to deal with lower forms of life."

The beast master still looked nervous, but he obeyed, unlocking the door and swinging it open just a little before dashing back to the far side of the room, near the exit. Magenta pushed the door open fully and the bear shuffled out, stretching and shaking himself.

"Keep close," said Fae, and they followed her out of the room, the bear giving the beast master a parting growl.

Minthara's quarters were in the back of the temple, on the same side as the pens. No one challenged them as they passed through an open door into a long room filled with bookcases at the near end, and at the far end a desk, covered in papers, by a small fireplace. Doors led off into adjacent rooms, but these were all closed.

At the desk stood a drow - red eyes, short white hair, fine armor - berating a goblin who cowered before her. She paused in her harangue when she noticed the newcomers. They felt the same probing of their minds which Fae and Gale had experienced from Priestess Gut.

"More true souls? And - a bear. How unusual."

"I took the bay-ar from your pens. It will serve me." Fae cast a look of infinite disdain on the goblin. "Must we have vermin present? There are important matters to be discussed."

Minthara dismissed him with a flick of her hand and he hurried eagerly away. "Your visit is unexpected, sister. I have received no word from the Towers." Her tone was friendly enough, but her eyes were suspicious.

"We are on other business for the Absolute, but in passing through the disgusting hole of the tree-worshipers, I encountered the priestess Gut."

Minthara's eyes lit up. "She lives! And you have found the druids!"

"A foolish, trusting bunch, easily misled by disguises and sweet words. Why do you let them remain and interfere with the Absolute's work?"

"We could not find them. We lost several patrols and two true souls in the search. But you can direct us, sister, and if you have their trust, you can aid us from within." The bear growled softly. Astarion nudged him in the ribs.

"Bring out a map," said Fae. "I will show you their location."

Minthara produced one quickly and laid it out on the desk. She and Fae bent over it, but as they did so, Fae gave a signal. Astarion had been slowly working himself into a good position, and he sprang forward like lightning. At the same time the other "true souls" began to bombard Minthara's mind with images - dragons and silver swords, magical fireworks bursting in the sky above Waterdeep, priests singing hymns to Ilmater, unicorns and rainbows - whatever they thought would be most disturbing to a drow. She staggered and began to cry out, but Astarion's hand clamped down over her mouth, and his teeth in her throat. She staggered. They heard her curses in their minds, her promises of the Absolute's vengeance, but at last she fell, and Astarion rose licking his lips.

"Invigorating! I may be full for a month. But she doesn't compare to you, darling," he said with a wicked smile at Magenta, who didn't know whether to blush or be sick.

"Hide the body, quickly," said Fae, and they shoved it out of sight under the desk as best they could, Fae pausing to lift a very odd-looking amulet from around the still warm neck. She also grabbed anything that looked important and portable from the desk. "Now, as calmly and as innocently as we can, we leave."

They caused an even bigger sensation on their exit than they'd done on their entrance, thanks to the bear, but they reached the inner door, and then the outer door, and then the barricades, and then they were in the forest again, and the sun was bright and the sky was clear, and the whole thing had barely taken them an hour.

Not until they reached their camp of the night before did Fae dare to call a halt, and they all sat down to rest except the bear, who shook himself once, twice, and turned into a wood elf, the tallest and broadest one any of them had ever seen. "This feels like the time I ate too many redcap mushrooms. I dreamed I was an avariel who flew to the moon and danced with a tribe of purple moon-gnomes. I woke up in a tree." He took a deep breath. "You came from the grove? _You?_ A drow, a vampire, and a - " He looked at Lae'zel uncertainly.

"I am githyanki. Your ignorance does you no credit."

"True. I should brush up on my knowledge of the planes. This is a strange group to find walking about under the sun. It's even stranger that you should risk your lives to save a man and a place you barely know. Are you one of the refugees?" he said, turning to Magenta. "You don't look familiar."

"No, I'm not with them. I came - I mean we, all of us here, came to the grove to find a healer."

"For yourselves or someone else?"

"For us. We're... sort of... infected."

Fae stood up. "We'd better keep moving. I can explain as we travel."

Halsin listened intently to her account of their backgrounds, abduction and present condition, and the questions he asked about the last one showed he already had some familiarity with it. "I'd like to examine all of you when we return to the grove, but I don't want to raise false hopes, so I'll tell you right now that this seems to be beyond my ability to cure. I've studied the drow who attacked a group of us in the woods leading a band of gnolls, and I've studied the thing that crawled out of his skull after he died. I suspected its origins, and now my suspicions are confirmed. I hoped that I could learn more from the followers of this 'Absolute', but their numbers had increased by an amount I was not prepared for. I'm glad the others made it back, though it might have cost the refugees and the grove dearly."

He looked up at the sun. "I need to return to the grove and stop the rite from continuing. Join me there. Before I go, I will give you this much aid, at least." He cast _Longstrider_ on each of them before changing his form again, this time into a bird, and flying off through the trees.


	9. Uncertainty

It was late afternoon before they got back, even with the burst of speed he'd given them. As they passed through the portcullis they heard unmistakable sounds of revelry - music, singing, laughter. Zevlor had evidently been waiting for them, since he'd raised the gate himself and came forward with a huge smile on his face once they were safely inside.

"Halsin has returned and the rite is ended! He spoke to me before continuing into the inner grove and said that we have you to thank for it. Soon we'll be able to continue our journey. I don't know how to express our gratitude except by inviting you to celebrate with us."

They accepted his offer and, since Astarion was well fed for the moment, moved their camp back inside the grove. Then they joined the festivities, trusting that Halsin would seek them out when his affairs were in order.

Fae, Gale, Astarion and even Lae'zel were active participants, but Magenta kept to the margins of the party, contenting herself with a lot of food, a little wine, and enjoying everyone else's enjoyment. She especially liked watching Astarion, who managed to devote part of the evening to each of the most attractive people in the area, evidently with designs for later. He seemed more at home than he ever had before and she wondered if this was how he'd spent most of his life - and his unlife - in Baldur's Gate. A very different life from her own, out in the wilds under the sun, moon and stars. She watched him dance and flirt and drink as if there were no such things as vampires in the world.

There was a lull in activity when night drew on and lights were kindled and, supper being well digested, space was cleared so dancing could begin in earnest. Astarion made his way up to where she sat in a relatively quiet corner. "I had no idea tieflings were such cheerful people," he said, sitting by her. "A little _too_ cheerful. I was hoping for a slightly more infernal sort of celebration."

"I'm not," she said. "This is fun."

"But you're not _doing_ anything."

"I'm watching. I like to watch."

"I know." He gave her a sly grin over his bottle of wine. "But you can watch later. Why don't you dance?"

"I'm not much of a dancer."

"And you never will be if you avoid it. Look at all the handsome young devils available!" He waved a hand at the crowd of tieflings before and beneath them. "Such skin! Such eyes! Such horns and tails! How can you resist the temptation?"

"Easily," she said, and something in her voice made him look at her most closely.

"But they're your people. Isn't that appealing?"

" _No._ " She was frowning at the crowd with a touch of what he could only call disgust.

"Why? What don't you like?"

"I don't like horns. I don't like tails. I don't like eyes with the light of the Hells in them. I don't like _them_ , and I don't like _me_. And I _hate_ being reminded of what I am." She walked away, leaving him to gaze after her in astonishment.

Gale didn't join the dancing; Fae found him sitting on the sidelines, a cup of wine in one hand and keeping time to the music with the other.

"How many does that make?" she said, pointing to the cup and smiling at his flushed face. He regarded the cup gravely.

"Good question. Somewhere between 'not enough' and 'too many'. Would you care for some?" He gestured to the bottle at his side.

"I don't drink anymore. It's a bad idea."

"Ah. Right. It's a shame, though - wine can be a useful tool. Like music and good company, it helps one put unpleasant memories aside for a time."

"And what unpleasant memories are you putting aside, Gale? Besides the obvious ones?"

"Still the cleric, I see." He gave his cup another thoughtful look, then set it down. "Come and walk with me."

They left the loud and lighted cavern and climbed the earthworks near the gate. The forest was quiet under its blanket of bright stars, and Gale talked lightly, pleasantly, of the follies of wizards, particularly of one very young wizard, handsome and talented, who found himself chosen by Mystra herself as champion, apprentice, and lover. But the goddess proved fickle and her interest waned. In desperation the wizard meddled with things that were beyond him. He sought to free a fragment of the Weave locked away in a pocket of the Astral Plane by an ancient Netherese mage, hoping to present it as a gift to the woman he loved. Instead he found himself cursed, and Mystra abandoned him entirely.

"In the long history of wizards' follies, it may, in the end, be only a footnote," he said. "Karsus's folly brought down an entire empire and nearly destroyed the Weave. Millions of people, perhaps, cursed his name before they died. One young wizard endangering a city-sized area pales in comparison, except to those near the potentially explosive wizard, of course." He fell silent, gazing at the trees.

"You didn't finish your story," Fae said. "What happened to the wizard and his burden?"

"I don't know. Ridding himself of it would have been no easy task. In the timelessness of the Astral Plane, if he could reach it, the orb would be inert, but unless he found a way to expel it from his body, he would need to remain there forever. And it is not a friendly place, as Lae'zel could no doubt tell you. It would be more or less a death sentence. And the wizard still had hope that he could control it, and wanted to live." Gale's smile was a little bitter now. "Folly upon folly. How many cursed his name as they died, I wonder - if they had time to do so."

"Did the wizard ever stop loving the goddess?"

Gale sighed. "I don't know that either. What wizard doesn't love Mystra, in a way? She is all magic. She is life itself. She is our muse, our study, our prize. With every spell we cast, we caress her. She... is everything. You're a cleric - you must understand such devotion to divinity."

"I do love Ilmater, but not in the same way I loved my husband. I don't know _how_ I could love a god that way. They are so... large, in a spiritual sense, and I am so small."

Gale looked at her musingly. "Have you ever touched the Weave?"

"Are you asking if I've ever cast an arcane spell? I studied theory and learned a few cantrips, as all drow females are expected to do, but no more."

"That's not quite what I meant. Let me show you." He taught her a simple invocation and they cast it together. Slowly the night changed around them - it grew more lovely and more remote, and in the space around them whispered something warm, sweet, welcoming, a magical haven of peace and safety. They were wrapped in the arms of Mystra.

"You see?" said Gale, softly. "This is the love of a goddess."

"It's like the presence of Ilmater, but... different." She looked at Gale and was surprised to find that she could _feel_ his presence. "This - this is Communion!"

"Yes, in the sense that elves use the Weave to Commune with each other. We're linked in much the same way, though it won't last."

She felt his mind reach out to her along the Weave and they touched, each tasting the other's wonder, amusement and curiosity. His mind was certainly not elven, but it was interesting, and she wondered why she'd never noticed that he _was_ rather handsome in a human sort of way. She thought of reaching up to brush her fingers through the soft brown hair which framed his face. Then she froze.

Through their link he saw the thought in her mind and she felt a brief burst of elation from him, but then he, too, froze, and the Weave faded away.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was a mistake. I was... confused."

"Yes. Of course." He took a deep breath. "I see why Communion can be tricky."

"Indeed." She forced a light smile onto her face. "Don't worry, I had no intention of competing with a goddess."

"Nor I with a ghost. Perhaps we should go back to the party." And they did.

The celebration lasted long into the night. It was early morning before stillness reigned once more inside the rocky walls of the cavern. Magenta was lying awake in her tent when she heard footsteps outside and someone pushed the flap open.  
  
"No, no, don't get up," he said. "In case you're curious, the dancing was _awful_ , though I found some much more interesting partners afterward." With perfect unconcern he lay down at her back and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. "Now I need to reverie for at least a few hours."  
  
"This isn't your tent!"  
  
"Of course not. I wanted company - _different_ company. You do like _me_ , don't you?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"But I'm handsome. Charming. Witty."  
  
"Selfish. Deceitful. Cruel."  
  
He snorted. "After two hundred years under Cazador's thumb - not to mention other body parts - do you really blame me?"  
  
"Maybe not. But you're still all those things."  
  
"Darling, I promise I'm not going to molest you. At least not tonight." He kissed the back of her neck. "Now let me rest. It's been a busy day."  
  
He fell silent and she relaxed slowly. Someday he'd probably hurt her, if she let him, but not tonight, and it was pleasant to be in his embrace. She drifted off to sleep.

_(The end? Maybe? Hurry up and finish the game, Larian!)_


End file.
